The Porsche, The Beetle And How I Got Here

Chapter 1

I was walking around London one faithful afternoon. The sky was grey, the sun pale and the streets almost empty, a typical day in this part of town.

I was minding my own business, until I saw it.

It had four wheels, two doors, a grey body and it looked absolutely beautiful in the lazy afternoon sun.

I have to be honest, I'm not the biggest Porsche fan, in my opinion they should try out some new designs, but this car, looked amazing.

What's a Porsche doing here? I asked myself and walked closer.

This isn't really a rich neighborhood, nor the ideal place for a fast car.

No one noticed me as I stopped a few meters from the Porsche, went around it to look at the car, before stopping at the same spot again, crossing my arms, to warm my frozen fingers.

It was the Porsche 901 not an incredibly new car, but you couldn't see that on the perfect surface and fine leather seats.

"Pretty car, ey?" A voice suddenly spoke beside me, causing me to jump a bit, while making a rather unflattering squeaking sound.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." The voice blurt, with an amused edge.

I turned my head, and stood face to face with a man about my height, brown hair and eyes, and pale skin, he send me a warm smile when our eyes met.

I couldn't really figure out what to do nor say, so I just stood looking at the man, while trying to get my heart under control, I don't do surprises very well, and they often make my heart race more frantic than a rabbit's.

I suddenly remembered the question, and smiled slightly before glazing at the car.

"It's a typical Porsche, but you can't deny it's beauty." I told him, and his smile brightened a bit, as if he knew something I didn't.

"A typical Porsche you say? What do you know about cars?" He asked interested, crossing his arms at his chest.

"Enough." I answered blankly.

"Enough?" He asked, his eyes fluttering a little. "What do you mean by 'enough'?"

"Enough to know a Porsche from a Fiat. Enough to know a V8 from a V12. Enough to mend my own car whenever it needs mending." I told him, and he looked impressed but a lot more sceptic.

"Impressive."

"Thanks."

"Now, prove it." He said with a confident grin.

"What? How?"

"Tell me something about the car."

"I would love to, but I can't really take a look under the helmet, so the information I can give you is limited." I told him, driving a hand through my short pale hair.

"Of course you can!" He said and started going through his pockets.

"But it’s not my ca-"

"No, but it’s mine." He said and pulled forth a little key. He smiled happily, as the car unlocked and he opened the helmet to reveal a very dirty motor.

"Gee dude, when did you last give this thing some love?" I asked as I walked past him, to get a closer look.

"I actually don't know, I bought it earlier today." He told me and secured the helmet, so it wouldn't drop on our heads.

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"Why the hell did you buy an old Porsche and brought it to London the same day? Shouldn’t you clean it up first or something?" I asked him, as I folded up my sleeves and stuck both arms into the mechanics.